impressed Terekhov as one of the finest pilots in his squadron. Oganov’s
wingman had been shot down in the first exchange with the talented American
who kept cheating Terekhov. He was just the man to call on now, cool and
cautious, the kind of aviator who could time a maneuver right down to the
second.
“Oganov,” he called. “Draw out the Americans. Let them think they have
you. I will support you.”
He increased his speed and double-checked his missile load. He only had
two more radar-homers. That would be enough.
0946 hours Zulu (0946 hours Zone)
Tomcat 204
Northwest of the Faeroe Islands
“He’s running! I’m on him!” Batman could feel the adrenaline surging
through his veins. Drugs had never tempted him, because no drug could
substitute for the thrill of combat. “I’m gonna nail this bastard, Malibu!”
“Watch out for company,” the RIO warned. “Stay frosty, man.”
Batman grinned under his oxygen mask. Despite the odds he felt like
nothing in the skies could beat him today.
The MiG ahead was running flat out, hardly even jinking. It would take
time to get close enough to hit him with guns, but as long as he kept this up
it would be an easy kill. With Stramaglia back there covering his six, he
didn’t have anything to worry about now.
“Two-oh-four! Two-oh-four!” It was Stramaglia. His voice was flat, but
Batman thought he could detect a note of concern. “Break off your attack,
Batman! I’ve got company back here, and I need some help.”
He broke to the left in a tight turn and spotted Stramaglia almost
immediately. CAG had understated the situation. A quartet of MiGs were
harrying the Tomcat, keeping him on the defensive. Stramaglia dodged and
twisted with all the skill of the best of Top Gun, but the MiGs clung to him
with bulldog tenacity.
“On my way, Stinger!” he called. He cursed under his breath. One of
those Russians would have been a sitting duck for a Sidewinder … but Batman
didn’t have one.
He could only watch and wait, praying he could get in range before it was
too late for Stinger Stramaglia.
0947 hours Zulu (0947 hours Zone)
Tomcat 200
Northwest of the Faeroe Islands
Stramaglia turned hard to port and started a dive, fighting his controls
and trying to keep track of the MiGs swarming around him. It was a situation
he’d never envisioned. himself in a dogfight where he couldn’t instantly see
the solution to the tactical problem.
“Talk to me, Paddles,” he said. “Stay on top of them.”
“Four o’clock! Closing in fast! Turn right! Right!” The RIO’s voice
was on the ragged edge of panic, but somehow that just helped Stramaglia throw
off the last of the lassitude that had gripped him before.
When the fight had begun the reality of it all had overwhelmed him. Even
the toughest situation was easy enough when it was an exercise, but with real
lives at stake it had simply been too much. In those critical opening minutes
of the battle Grant had stepped in and taken charge, and it gratified
Stramaglia to know that the squadron leader had been there. After the Bear
incident he’d been worried about how Coyote would handle his next encounter,
but it had been Stramaglia himself who couldn’t deal with the problem of
leading men into battle. The irony would have been funny but no one was
laughing.
He’d finally found his combat rhythm again, but even as he struggled to
stay a step ahead of his opponents the differences between real life and
simulated combat gnawed at him. Instinct and training told him what to do,
but there was a part of him, a scared part, that knew all too well the price
of a single mistake or miscalculation.
A tone sounded in his headphones as his last Sidewinder locked onto one
of the other planes. That would narrow the odds a little … and when Batman
joined the game they’d crack these Russians wide open.
His finger clamped down on the firing stud, and the Sidewinder whooshed
from the launching rail. “Fox two!”
0947 hours Zulu (0947 hours Zone)
Fulcrum Leader
Northwest of the Faeroe Islands